


Five Vices.

by Adi



Category: Babylon 5
Genre: F/M, Homicide, Masterbation, Other, five things
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-05-07
Updated: 2010-05-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 08:38:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/85183
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adi/pseuds/Adi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five Things That Never Happened To Talia Winters (as far as I know).</p>
            </blockquote>





	Five Vices.

Cuisine – 100

She was sitting next to the table, a cold cup of tea in her gloved hand, when the meal finally arrived. Legs that moved with purposeful grace, sleeves that hid the power in those arms. Hair, loose around the shoulders, hinting at a softness absent elsewhere. Blue jacket covering soft curves, the lace behind the steel. Eyes that didn't even glance her way. Skin that looked oh so soft and lips she longed to kiss. The Commander turned a corner and Talia sighed, satisfied. Putting down her tea, she prepared to leave. She loved this cafe.

 

Love - 250

She had flirted with him all day, had stepped into the lift that morning knowing he would be there, he was always there, and not caring because it meant she could tease him. She had thought she was only in a playful mood, but found she couldn't stop flirting, couldn't stop teasing.

It wasn't her that was doing this, it was some other Talia Winters. Perhaps it was the Talia Winters that Susan Ivanova was so afraid of. If it was, Talia couldn't blame her.

This person who looked like her and sounded like her, but acted so differently, this Talia Winters pawed at Michael Garibaldi like a love-starved puppy. This Talia allowed him to lead her to his quarters, to take off her cloths, and then lead him to bed.

Talia did not particularly like this person that had taken over her.

However, she did like the feel of flesh against flesh against sheets. She did like the ache between her legs as he pounded into her. The surprised gasp/groan he made when she scratched her nails down his back. The physical so very physical, the mental almost didn't matter.

She loved his desperate, grateful lips against her own, his warm body against hers as she drifted near sleep. He snored, and she loved the sound of not being alone.

And even though this wasn't her, not really, she would take this over cold sheets and loneliness almost any day.

 

Games – 500

Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, and the other being that resided within her laughed in her mind.

The gun had been cold when she had picked it up, but her naked hands had warmed it, and now the metal felt vaguely like flesh, or at least how she remembered flesh felt like. The other didn't like to share her senses. Sometimes she let her see, sometimes the pleasure even leaked through, but the sensation of skin and flesh was denied to her.

It was the sights that hurt the most. The other showed her the brown haired, blue eyed girls she lured into her bed. The girls that came willingly, eagerly, too innocent to be called women. She hurt them, made them beg for more, then kicked them out as they cried.

Talia didn't know whether these visions were real, surely not all the girls had brown hair and blue eyes, surely not all of them looked like Susan.

After a while, however, Talia realized that it really didn't matter. Her reality was whatever she perceived it to be, and she perceived whatever the other wanted her to. Her reality was a world she couldn't touch, and a dark hole she was slowly becoming.

Talia had long ago given up hope of rescue. She wasn't even sure anyone still remembered her. There was only one way out, only one way.

This gun could be the answer, her salvation. If no one else could, would, rescue her, then she would rescue herself.

The other would never allow her this freedom if she believed her actually capable of pulling the trigger of the old projectile weapon she had managed to procure, along with a single bullet.

The gun was in her mouth, the taste bitter metallic on her tongue.

She imagined herself in a long dark tunnel, silent and cold, a speck of light shone from the end, a faint glimmer of freedom. Someone walked behind her, she knew who it was, tried to ignore her. The other laughed, but Talia trudged on, feeling as though she was walking through molasses or wet cement. All the while the laugh followed her, mocking her and her efforts.

As the light grew nearer the laughter died. She felt the other grow worried, then angry, then scared, then finally as Talia was almost out, almost free, the other attacked.

Talia fought with everything she had, everything she was and everything she could have been. She still didn't expect to win, but then she was out of the tunnel, surrounded by light. She felt herself pull the trigger and prepared for death.

*Click*

Talia screamed as the other threw her back into her dungeon, laughing at her defeat. In a dark corner, of a dark hole, in the depth of a conquered mind, Talia curled up around her despair and slept, dreaming of her next chance at Russian Roulette.

 

Music- 750

On earth, these bars were dark and smoky, the air hazy with depression, desperation, and intent. The chairs hard, the alcohol cheap, the liaisons fast and hard against the wall in the alley outside.

On Babylon 5, the air filters removed any trace of smoke, the alcohol was as alien and intoxicating as it was cheap, and there was no alley, just endless corridors. The air still held depression and desperation and intent. It was not even the seedy underbelly of Babylon 5. It was what the seedy underbelly used to blow its nose. Most of the people who frequented this place would not be missed.

The lights were low and set so peoples faces were in shadow. She didn't care. It didn't matter what this one looked like, whether it was male or female, whether it had mates or children. Just that it was there, and it was willing to follow her into a dark corridor.

It turned out to be male this time, he pushed her against the wall and thrust into her without ceremony. It hurt, she felt his pain resonate through his mind, through the walls, like ripples in a pond, it moved through the station until it faded. She moaned in pleasure, but it wasn't enough, barely an appetizer to the feast she had planned for tonight.

He thrust harder, aroused by her moaning, but he cared little about her pleasure, she knew that. She was little more than a warm body with a pulse he could fuck. He didn't belong to this world of rock bottoms either, vaguely in the back of her mind she thought maybe that would cause problems later, but she didn't care. Just as this man would get his pleasure, so would she and damn the consequences.

He grunted and picked up the pace of its thrusts, not too long now. She reached down, running her hand down the length of his back, down to his waist and from there to hers. It was hard to hide anything under a skirt, even harder when the skirt was bunched up around her hips, but there was a point, in the small of her back, where the shirt folded into the skirt where there was just enough room for small instrument. It wasn't much, and not nearly as versatile as she truly wanted it to be, but it would have to be enough.

Getting to it was not a problem, lifting her hips just excited him. It didn't even notice her instrument silently gleaming in the little light that made it into this dead-end corridor. His pleasure grew in a crescendo; timing was crucial now, too soon and there would not be enough, too late and it would be ruined. Post coital satisfaction did not taste good with death.

His thrusts became jerky, his grunting louder. She had never seen a pig in her life, but she imagined it grunted like that. Soon now, she knew, very soon. She raised her instrument, and waited. She didn't have to wait long, he obviously wasn't out to impress anyone. She felt him nearing the peak, and just as he was about to reach it, she struck.

Her hand moved so quickly it only registered a moment after it happened. She felt herself at the edge of the knife, piercing his skin, his muscle, burrowing through his body until it reached the heart. She felt his surprise. His pleasure as he peaked and the pain of her intrusion overwhelmed into momentary inaction. He froze, eyes wide, mouth open, silently screaming to the heavens.

She took this opportunity to use her instrument on his throat. It wasn't the introduction she wanted, but she could improvise if it meant less screaming, less chance of being interrupted. She played a symphony with his pain. A cut here, a stab there, a capriccio of suffering overlaying a harmony of dying.

All over the station telepaths perked their psionic ears and smiled at the beauty of music only they could hear.

When she was done she kicked the empty shell aside. She had rented a room close by, where she washed the blood from hands and face and changed into some clean clothes. As she returned to the realms of light and life she pushed away all memories of that night, all except the memory of the sweet, sweet music which had soothed her soul.

 

Companionship – 1000

Some saw the glass as half empty, some saw it as half full. They were all delusional, there was no glass, just a bottle, but it was mostly empty.

The dark amber liquid caught the dimmed lights, swallowed it whole. Darkness in a bottle, heaven in a glass.

She was lying on her couch, she was floating near the ceiling, she was flying through space, and hyperspace and time itself meant nothing. She was drunk out of her mind, alone, in the dark, and there was nowhere to go but down.

Talia raised the bottle, and stared at it, trying to get her alcohol saturated mind to cooperate. Enough for three mouthfuls, or one if she was greedy. She was greedy.

She lifted the bottle to her mouth, tongue darting out, licking the rim, teasing herself with just the taste of the bitter, burning, cool, intoxicating beverage inside.

She pressed the bottle against her lips in a sweet chaste kiss, and felt the liquid flow to her lips, seeking entry into her mouth. Talia closed her eyes and parted her lips, groaning in ecstasy. The drink battled her tongue, rolling over and under, coating it with flavor, loving it and leaving it on its way down her throat.

It was over far, far too quickly, leaving her frustrated with wanting, and almost trembling with need. Desperate, she tilted the bottle further, watching as the last drops made their tortuously slow journey down the bottle's sides, most disappearing long before reaching her waiting mouth.

Forcing her tongue into the bottle's small orifice, she soaked in the last remains of her night's companion and finally, defeated, dropped the bottle onto her chest, where it fell, silently, onto her breast.

Talia sighed, disappointed. She had hoped for more from this one, it had come highly recommended from those supposedly in the know. She closed her eyes, shifted her shoulders, preparing to call it a night, when she felt a familiar tightness. Looking down at the source, she saw the tip of the bottle resting on her now very stiff nipple.

Moving the bottle further down to her stomach, Talia moved it to her other hand and reached under her robe to gently stroke the nub, soothing the ache. However soon she became aware of another tightness, further down, slowly increasing in urgency.

She closed her eyes and breathed deeply, one finger stroking the bottle while the other played with her nipple. She could ignore this. Stop her stroking and just drift into sleep. She stopped and a little twitch in her neither regions begged her to continue. She sighed and continued plucking at her nipple.

After a few moments she allowed her hand to roam her whole breast, teasing it with her fingertips, wishing they were lips instead. She opened her legs and let the bottle sit between them, and moved her other hand to her other breast. Licking a finger she traced around her nipple causing it to harden and sending tingles down between her legs.

Moaning she reached down and gently, oh so gently, pushed the bottle up. Circling around her clitoris with the mouth she closed her eyes and fantasized that it was an actual mouth. The tongue would trace her lips, up and down, and back up toward her clit. The teeth would bite gently at it before moving down to the opening.

She gasped as she pushed the head of the bottle into herself and moaned again. It felt so good and yet so very bad at the same time. The pleasure between her legs seemed to feed on the emptiness she felt in her gut, which in turn fed on the pleasure she was feeling. One hand on her breast, alternating, would pinch her nipple hard and release, pinch and release. She bit her lip as she raised her hips to meet the thrusting bottle. She wanted more damn it. She wanted more than warm glass and her own hands.

Pulling the bottle back up to her mouth she ran her tongue along the edge, tasting herself, enjoying her own frustration, feeling as though it was all she deserved. Cleaning off the bottle with her mouth she contemplated ending it right there. Forcing herself to sleep with the ache between her legs and her muscles painfully tense. She raked her nails across her stomach, trying to dull her arousal, but only accomplishing the opposite. Groaning in frustration and a form of despair she lowered the bottle back between her legs.

She cried out as the bottle entered her again. The pleasure so intense it was painful for a moment. She gave herself no respite however, and continued moving the bottle in and out, in and out. The pleasure built up, between her legs and in the back of her mind. She bit her lip in concentration and abandoned her breasts to use both hands in guiding the bottle into her.

The bottle was smooth in her hands, and slick with sweat and other juices. A distracted part of her worried it would slip, and break, and she would cut herself and bleed.

She closed her eyes tightly and released her lip to whisper, "Please, please, please." Into her quiet quarters. She was so close she could feel it. Just a little more, just a little higher.

She pushed the bottle hard inside, causing herself pain that was easily drowned out by the orgasm that flowed through her body. Lights flashed behind her eyes, but only for a moment.

She lay there for a few moments, enjoying the aftershocks before finally allowing the bottle to fall to the floor. It hadn't been a great orgasm. It had barely even been a good one, but it had been enough. Feeling relaxed she pondered moving to the bed, as she slowly drifted into a deep dreamless sleep.


End file.
